Category Archives: Ex-Pat

Okay, Before One More Person Asks Me…

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Yes, I have to fill out a US Tax Return.  No, I do not have to pay any US Taxes.  I do not make enough money, thank god.

I basically have to fill out this one form that says ‘this is how much I make a year in US Dollars, based on an average of the exchange rate over the last 12 months.’  Then I have to fill out another part of that form that says ‘this is how many days I was in the US on business last year.’  Then I have to fill out a 1040 (not a 1040a, an actual full 1040) with nothing but zeros, sign it, send it to the States and VIOLA, done for another year.

My deadline is the same as everyone else’s, April 15.  I will be filling out all of those zeros this week (it takes about 10 minutes) and getting it into the post.  Has to be postmarked April 15.  Doesn’t have to be there by then.

Apparently if I ever *do* make enough money here to need to pay taxes there, I will need to higher an expert on this sort of thing because apparently it is very complicated.  As of right now, I send what I think is the right form to my US accountant, who I, very sweetly, call ‘daddy’, via email and he looks it over and says ‘yup, that’s it’ or ‘nope, try this one’.

I think I will link back to this post every year.  That way I never have to answer this question again.  Right?

Another Thing I Don’t Get About the UK

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There are no electric outlets in the bathrooms.

There is no way to plug in a hairdryer or an electric toothbrush.  Or a night light.

I guess I get the logic of it. No electricity around water.  But if that is truly the logic, then why are there outlets in kitchens?  And why can’t they do what they do in the US and put trips into them, so if water and electricity mix, the outlet turns off.

I don’t use a hairdryer or an electric toothbrush (well, I do, but it takes batteries), but a night light would be helpful.

Especially since when you turn on the overhead light in every bathroom I’ve been in the UK the extractor fan turns on also.  Which is very loud in the middle of the night and wakes up the world.

I just don’t get it.

Rain, Always Rain

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Yup, raining again here in Belfast.  And cold.  Seems like spring is *never* going to come.

People ask me how I could possibly have moved from “sunny!” California to rainy Belfast.  Well, San Francisco isn’t exactly “sunny!” California.

Most people, when you say California, assume you mean Southern.  LA, in other words.  But I am not from LA.  I hate LA.  And, yes, I have been there.

In truth, the weather in Belfast isn’t all that different from Northern California.  Its colder, but both places are very very wet.  So I feel right at home.

Of course, in Northern California, it only rains in the winter.  In Belfast, it rains year round.

But its not really the rain that bothers me.  Its the cold.  I like rain.  I just don’t like cold rain.

Of course, if I could stay home while it rains, I’d like it just fine.  But no, I have to go to work.  In the rain.  And the cold. In the cold rain.

So, What Do I Think is Better in the UK?

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So yesterday I wrote about what I find or found it hard to deal with when I moved here. So what do I think is better?

The beer. Hands down. I go to the States and drink what is considered beer there and I practically gag on it, its so watery and nasty. This is why I am still in shock that you can actually buy, and people drink, Budweiser and Miller here. Just, why???

The people. They are warm and welcoming. Shop assistants call you ‘love’. Seem to really mean it when they tell you to have a nice day.

Some of the food. As mentioned before, the national dish is an Ulster Fry, or just a Fry. Eggs, bacon, sausage, bread, tomatoes, mushrooms, black/white pudding. Heart attack on a plate. And delish. I also really like the savory pie concept, that you don’t really get in the States. Shepherd’s Pie (which is made with lamb. To quote James Martin “What Shepherd herds cows???”), Cottage Pie, Steak Pie, etc. All served up with mashed potatoes (yes, even the ones with mash on top of them. What can I say? Its Ireland!) and a veg. Little HP on top…YUM!

Which brings me to potatoes. And a conversation my mother had with my friend Andrea at my wedding, which I think pretty much sums up Ireland food philsophy.

Mum: I knew I was in Ireland when there were two kinds of potatoes on the plate.

Andrea: Yup. And, actually, some nice potatoes and a really good gravy and we all would have been happy!

For the record, we served roast beef, champ, roast potatoes and veg at our wedding. What’s that? What’s champ? This is champ. LOVE IT!

Do You Speak English?

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The other day I had to call Cannes, France, to confirm a hotel reservation for one of my bosses, as he has a conference there the middle of March (yeah, tough life, the company sending him to the South of France for a conference. I am still trying to convince him he needs me there to carry his bags).

I find there is nothing more awkward then dialling another country, hearing their opening spiel in their language and having to ask them if they speak English. But I do not speak French. I can read it a bit and say a few words, but at the speed a native goes? Not gonna happen. Luckily both of the people I spoke to at the hotel did speak English and I confirmed the reservation with no problems.

But it got me thinking. Do I speak English? Or do I speak American?

I actually speak a combination of both. My mother and sister-in-law have both pointed this out to me. I say lorry, not truck. I say lift, not elevator. But I still call it a sidewalk, not the pavement. Pavement is what you drive on.

I’ve also picked up a little bit of an accent, but not too much of one. One of the other English things I say is ‘sorry’ rather than ‘excuse me’ when I nearly bump into someone. And I say it with a bit of a lilt.

And there are difference in expression that get me in trouble or make me blush. ‘You blew me off’ has a totally different meaning here (figure it out, you’re all intelligent people!). And one day the following conversation happened at work:

Boss is patting all of the papers on his desk, obviously looking for something.

Robyn: What did you lose?

Boss: My rubber.

Robyn: ::blushing furiously:: I have more in the supply cupboard, do you need one?

Boss: FOUND IT!

Co-Worker: We do have more rubbers?

Robyn: ::still blushing:: Yes, do you need one?

CEO: You really shouldn’t ask Robyn for a rubber.

Co-worker: Yeah, because I am sure she keeps condoms in the supply cover.

Robyn: ::Flees to get Co-worker an ERASER!!!::

And I really don’t embarrass easily. But that got me.

The other thing that gets me on occasion is pronunciation. I was taking minutes in a meeting not too long ago and I could not figure out what a ‘clark of works’ was. So we finish the meeting and I say to my boss “A what of works?!”

“Clark.”

“Clark?”

“Yes, c-l-e-r-k, clark.”

“Ooooh, CLERK!” You would have thought I’d have figured that one out by the context, but the pronunciation was so different, I just couldn’t get my head around it!

And when my mother, or sister-in-law, point out what I’ve said is English, rather than American, I point out to them that I live here now. I need to speak the language.

My Accent

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Its really very strange. I will go months and months without a single person asking me where I am from. And then 10 people will ask me in two days.

I don’t really have an answer to that question. I mean, obviously, I am from the United States. But then people ask me what part. The real true honest answer is:

I was born in Massachusetts. I grew up in Connecticut. I went to Boarding School and 1 year of University in NY. I finished University in Iowa. I lived in California for 7 years. I’ve spent several summers in Ohio. I’ve also spent several summers in Maine.

I usually just give the shorter answer: Connecticut, but I lived in California for 7 years before I moved here.

And then I get asked where ‘home’ is. If home has to be in the US, then home is California, hands down. San Francisco Bay Area, to be specific. Where my brother and his wife and my two nieces live.

So what I really want to say when I am asked where I am from? Belfast.

And what is home? Belfast.

And I really don’t see myself ever going back ‘home’ to the US.